31
Pressing on for two days and into most of each night, Únik began to regret not taking the option to run when she had the opportunity. Her backside felt sore from riding, legs cramped from gripping the horse's flank with her thighs. She never realised how tiring riding a horse was until this very moment and, if she never rode a horse again, she would count herself lucky.
She didn't care much for the company either. Not because they treated her with any resentment, or animosity, they treated her well, but because hardly any of them spoke. The rides made in silence, the camps almost as bad, with only murmured thanks upon accepting food, or little, short, clipped conversations. The only one that seemed to speak was Ylthara.
The Ice-Kin Storm Mage made the occasional question towards Únik, along the way. Not about Hatyara, or Shihiri, or about what they would do, where they would go, but about Únik herself and her life before Hatyara had started her upon this quest. Once Únik answered, the woman would lapse into silence once again.
Únik didn't know how to take Ylthara. With a far more dour personality than her sister, with none of the aloof arrogance, Únik considered, under any other circumstance, that she could come to like her. She appreciated the Ice-Kin's directness, her stoic resolve and the open, unreserved kindness. Hatyara had shown kindness, but not often. On the morning of the third day, Ylthara examined Únik's spear as they rode.
"It's a fine weapon. Old. Very old. I've never seen the design before, nor the wood that makes the shaft." Turning the spear in the loop of the saddle, Ylthara ran a finger down the black shaft. "A family heirloom?"
"No." Bristling at the thought of how she had come by the spear, Únik wanted to clamp her mouth shut before she revealed her crime of killing a Patron. "I found it. In an ancient city."
"Found it? As part of my studies, it was drummed into me all the different weapons in the West, the better to recognise our enemies, father used to say. I have never seen a spear of its like before. Not even in the ancient texts." The finger moved up to the point of the spear and she pulled back her hand with a sharp intake of breath, a bead of blood appearing on her ice-blue skin. "Still so sharp! Which city held this?"
"Your sister believed it to be Pithnar." Únik didn't know what information to give and what to keep to herself. Telling Ylthara the name of the city seemed innocent enough, but Únik was unsure. "I don't know. It was just a derelict city. I found that in the rubble."
"Pithnar? A city from before the last Upheaval?" A sense of awe emanated from the Ice-Kin and she touched the spear once again. "It must be magic, this weapon. Preserved for over a thousand years, still sharp? Does it have any other properties? Have you fought with it? It's fascinating!"
Another side to Ylthara became evident. A curious, keen mind and a thirst for knowledge. Hatyara had passed by and through everything and everywhere with little interest of the things and people around her, save for finding the bolt of material from her homeland in Shalbruk.
Ylthara, instead, seemed interested in things. The questions she had asked Únik had come from that interest. No ulterior motive, Únik now realised. She only wanted to know because it, Únik, was new to her. Únik found that admirable and endearing.
"No. I haven't used it." In a fit of embarrassment, Únik's hands gripped Ylthara's waist tighter. "I don't know how to use a spear, anyway. I lost my whale hook. It was either the spear or a bit of wood as a club. I'm beginning to think I should have gone with the club."
"Nonsense! To have such a weapon! It's a blessing!" Turning her head, Ylthara showed a genuine passion in her eyes. "I shall have to teach you. And Únik, never, ever, let anyone take this beautiful thing from you. You will never see its like again."
Únik thought back to Shihiri's words when she had tried to give the spear to her. That she doubted anyone could have the spear but Únik, a reward from Frianchenzer for plunging the spear into the Patron's form, ending its immortal life. She hadn't wanted the spear then and she didn't want it now.
"You can have it. It's yours." Releasing her grip on Ylthara's waist, she took the Ice-Kin's hand, placing it on the spear shaft. "I'm not a fighter. I don't need it."
Ylthara's hand snapped away from the spear as soon as Únik's hand left it. The Ice-Kin looked at her palm as though she had become injured, her fingers flexing. She made a quick glance behind her to Únik and then at the spear once more, her eyes narrowing.
"No. This spear is not meant for me." Rubbing her hand upon her leather breeches, Ylthara made a little cough before grasping the horse's reins in both hands once again. "It's yours, whether you want it or not."
Únik scowled at that. Shihiri had said almost the exact same thing, as though both of them had felt something within the spear that pushed them away. Únik had felt nothing from the spear. Nothing at all. To her, the spear was only a spear and a reminder. The only thing she felt while holding it was revulsion over what she had used it for. With two people now rejecting the weapon, Únik wondered if she could ever rid herself of it.
The sound of hooves thundering towards them brought Únik out of her darkening thoughts. One of the Hagragng soldiers raced towards them as though an army chased them, sending snow flying into the air as the horse's legs kicked onwards. The soldier reined in their horse beside Ylthara, a look of grave concern upon his face.
"Ma'am. You were right, the forest ends but a mile south and, there, a great plain of snow opens out and the turn of the mountains gives passage to the west." Using their head to nod the directions, the soldier fought to keep their excited horse steady. "But that is not all, ma'am."
"Spit it out! We don't have all day." Leaning over the pommel of her saddle, Ylthara patted her horse's neck, keeping it calm beside the soldier's more skittish mount. "What did you see, soldier?"
"A merchant caravan, I think, or perhaps refugees. I didn't get close enough to tell." The soldier looked away, embarrassed to admit that. "They've been attacked. Slaughtered. Blood everywhere, snow disturbed all around. I doubt anyone survived."
Without saying a word, Ylthara kicked her horse into motion, following the soldier's tracks. Únik cursed horse-riding as her backside bounced upon the animal's back. She felt as though her entire pelvis were about to break, but the Ice-Kin did not slow down for her comfort. If anything, Ylthara kicked the horse to even greater speed and Únik feared the horse could trip over hidden pits or stones.
Looking over Ylthara's shoulder, Únik realised they would have mo such problems. A whirlwind careened ahead of them, at a distance. The powerful, miniature storm threw snow, loose stones, twigs, branches and anything else in their path, to the side, leaving a deep gouge within the snow that Ylthara could race her horse along. Powerful or not, Únik did not know, the effect was impressive.
The horse came to a sudden stop as Ylthara pulled the horse's head in. Únik felt herself press into the Ice-Kin's back as they stopped and, as she adjusted herself, groaning at the pain between her legs, she heard the Ice-Kin gasp. With a swing of the leg over her horse's head, Ylthara dropped to the ground, drawing that sword that looked like ice.
Still uncertain, after only a few days of riding, Únik almost tumbled from the back of the horse, coming to stand beside the Ice-Kin and looking down into a small valley. What Únik saw would haunt her nightmares for years to come. Perhaps forever. She had never seen anything like it.
Upon snow made red by blood, over a large area, Únik saw almost a dozen carts and wagons, the contents tossed and distributed across the crimson snows. Bodies and parts of bodies lay in haphazard fashion within the gaps between the overturned and broken carts and also around the outer edge of the bloodied circle.
Ylthara stepped forward and Únik heard the horses of the others in the party come to a halt behind her. A collective gasp passed among them all and Únik could hear murmurs of shock and whispered prayers. Turning, she saw the looks of horror upon their faces, some touching their foreheads in respect for the dead. Únik would have thought warriors used to the sight of death.
"Is it bandits? I heard they prowl this way." Únik turned back, trying not to retch at the sight of all the blood and body parts. She had spent years gutting whales, bears and wolves, but she had never seen anything like this.
"No. Not bandits." Using her sword to point, Ylthara swept the blade across the carnage. "There's too much loot for bandits to have left. Do you notice anything? Anything missing?"
"I wouldn't know what to look for." Skimming her eyes across the devastated caravan, Únik squinted.
"No horses." Again with her sword, Ylthara indicated several points. Mounds upon the snow. "And those aren't natural. We must show care. This is the feeding ground of a Snow Wyrm."
A shiver ran down Únik's back. She thanked the Patrons that, in all her time in the wastes of Tracis' Midden, she had never encountered a Snow Wyrm. Not even seen one at a distance. She prayed now that she never would. Though she felt that particular prayer may come too late to save them.
-+-
Looking around, Únik felt a great fear grip her, tightening her chest, causing her breaths to come too fast, too short. She hadn't noticed before, but Ylthara's little whirlwind had pushed aside snow several feet deep, causing a thin patch of bare ground between drifts that could hide a burrowing Snow Wyrm with ease. She saw the other members of the party survey the area around them, wary.
She could see Ylthara's fingers flexing and gripping her sword, narrowed eyes searching the field of snow. The Ice-Kin raised a finger to her lips and then waved a hand back the way they came, urging silence and retreat. Only the sound of breathing punctured the silence and then the clinks and chinks of bridles as each of the warriors began to turn their horses, leading them back up the trail created by the whirlwind.
Beside Únik, Barsa had taken his place. He lifted his head, sniffing the air and giving out muted whimpers, ears swivelling to and fro. Overhead, a carrion bird made lazy circles above the remains of the merchant caravan, soon joined by others, their black wings flapping, calling to each other as they readied themselves to drop to the ground and feast.
Únik watched every step she made, terrified of kicking a stone, or tripping and bringing the wrath of the Snow Wyrm down upon them. If they were lucky, they could make their way back to the stretches of snow that did not come so deep. Places where the Snow Wyrm could not burrow, hiding from nervous, watchful eyes.
She considered taking down her spear, holding it within useless hands that could do nothing to aid in any battle against the beast, should it attack. To the front, one of the horses became skittish, shaking its head, pulling against the reins leading it to safety.
As the warrior attempted to calm the horse, a sound reached their ears. Like a exhalation of breath from something far bigger than a horse. A puff of snow flew into the air, not twenty feet away causing the carrion birds overhead to wheel away, screeching and calling, before disappearing from sight, leaving them all in silence once more, save for the snorts and whinnies of the fearful horse.
Without warning, something burst from within a nearby drift of snow, sending flurries and flakes flying into the air, shrouding the entire group, causing waved hands and coughs. Únik heard a pitiful scream, that of a horse, and she squinted through the wall of disturbed snow, searching for any sign of the beast. Another scream punctuated the air. That of a human, or an Ice-Kin, and Únik raced forward, uncaring that she could run into the Snow Wyrm herself.
As the snow began to settle once more, she reached the front of the group to find a Hagragng soldier writhing upon the ground, arm clutching towards where his other arm should be, now nothing more than a bloodied, gaping wound. The Snow Wyrm, in one attack, had taken the man's horse and half his torso. He continued to scream until the blood had rushed from his heart and then fell silent, twitching upon the ground.
Bohyiris, the disfigured healer, darted to the man's side, laying his hand upon the man's chest, but even Únik could tell there was nothing the healer could do. The man was dead and Bohyiris dipped his head, gripping the fallen warriors leather armour. All the others in the party stared around them, eyes wide with fear.
"Here. You only need to thrust the sharp end forward." Ylthara pressed Únik's spear into her hands, hissing the words and whipping her head around. She waved a hand to the others, again. "Keep retreating. If we can reach thinner snow, we may yet live."
Barsa began to growl, tensing himself and watching one side of the snow. Únik span around in time to see something erupt upwards. A great, flat body, white with indistinct patches of dark grey along its body. The creature arced over her head and she saw a great maw of a mouth, with rows upon rows of teeth protruding from within. It passed her, striking a female Ice-Kin warrior behind.
As though time had slowed, Únik watched as the long, undulating body of the Snow Wyrm passed overhead, continuing on to crash, head-first into the bank of snow on the other side. At a guess, she considered the thing over thirty feet in length and that entire length burrowed onto the snow again in the blink of an eye.
The Snow Wyrm had not taken a horse, this time. Instead, its immense, serrated mouth had taken the Ice-Kin woman. Taken her, but not all of her. Half the Ice-Kin's head rested on the ground, propped up against the snow, the single remaining eye still open, staring at nothing. She hadn't even had time to scream.
"Ylthara! Use your magic, Patrons damn you!" Holding her spear before her, Únik spun one way and then the other, uncertain where the Snow Wyrm could emerge from next. "A storm! Lightning! Rain! Anything!"
"I'm not that powerful! Even my strongest lightning only stings people, let alone that thing!" Únik could see the Ice-Kin warrior biting her lip, widened eyes searching the snows around them. "I can either make a large, weak whirlwind, or a small, powerful whirlwind. Mount up! Run for it!"
Another scream came from behind Únik and she turned too late. The creature seemed too fast, too agile. Appearing, attacking and disappearing in instants. The only one that seemed to sense where the creature may come from was Barsa and even he only seemed to sense its coming at the last second.
The rest of the party had begun clambering into their saddles, their horses rearing up, dancing backwards, eyes almost bursting from their heads in fear, nostrils flaring, teeth baring. Mounting the horses was a mistake. It only served to make them targets. Únik grabbed Ylthara, pulling the Ice-Kin back before her foot slid into the stirrup.
Barsa barked, looking through the legs of Ylthara's horse and Únik reacted upon her instinct. Hooking her leg behind Ylthara's, she tripped the Ice-Kin, sending her crashing to the ground, Únik landing atop her with all her considerable body weight as more flurries of snow descended upon them. Raising her head only a slight, Únik saw the legs of Ylthara's horse thrashing as the Snow Wyrm dragged the helpless creature beneath the deep drift of snow.
Before Únik could even start to lift herself from atop Ylthara, Barsa began barking once again. Her eyes flew to the side in time to catch the tail of the Snow Wyrm disappearing into the snow, leaving two more warriors on the ground. One dead, missing the entire top half of their body, the other clutching at a leg that had become ripped from their body by the passing creature.
Not one warrior had managed to lift a sword, a spear or a bow in response. The Snow Wyrm moved with such speed, it seemed impossible to touch it. It was picking them off, one by one and the blood of its victims now stained the ground about them, pooling in dark puddles at their feet.
"Watch the dog!" Bending almost double, Únik tried to catch the attention of the remaining warriors, waving her black-shafted spear. "The dog can sense its coming!"
"Stay low!" Ylthara had regained her feet, keeping her had down and moving up the line. "And keep retreating!"
The warriors showed their worth, keeping their heads, following orders. Each bent low, eyes flickering towards Barsa as Únik's hound continued to sniff the air, making low, rumbling growls. It seemed the creature had given them some respite. Únik didn't know if it had killed enough, people and horses, or whether it only prepared for another assault. Up ahead, she could see the drifts of snow becoming lower, stones cropping up. They only had to reach the thinner layers, leaving the Snow Wyrm nowhere to burrow through, nowhere to hide.
Barsa began to bark once more, making a jumping spin to face the other way, head lowered. Únik turned to see where the dog anticipated the creature emerging and saw the healer, Bohyiris still knelt beside the warrior missing a leg, tending to a man that had little chance of living.
Without even thinking, Únik raised her spear and threw it. She hadn't even seen the Snow Wyrm begin to erupt from the snow, but the released spear sliced through the air. She didn't even know why she threw it, only that some instinct had urged her to do so. Some memory of the words of Frianchenzer mentioning a spear that never missed.
Snow blew upwards, lifting high into the air and the huge, terrible creature began to unfurl itself. Barrelling towards the back of the scarred healer, rows and rows of teeth, at all angles and many sizes, in a mouth opening wide aimed for Bohyiris, unaware, uncaring of what bore down upon him.
The spear struck. Somehow, the spear hit the creature. Únik couldn't believe it. As though the creature were made of nothing but paper, the head of the spear passed through a carapace that seemed more like armour than skin. The spear burrowed deep into the Snow Wyrm and it writhed up into the air, screeching. Black ichor fountained from the creature's mouth, spraying in great arcs that painted the snow about it.
At the greatest height the creature could reach, its flat head twisted and then the entire body began crashing back down, like a rope dropped to the floor.
Únik's blind shot. The first she had ever made with anything, let alone a spear she did not know how to use, had hit its mark and there was no-one more shocked than her.